


Here Comes the Sun

by Potassiumer



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Absolute fluff, First Kiss, M/M, set after Senda game for obvious reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potassiumer/pseuds/Potassiumer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Abe comes over to Mihashi's house, he's expecting to help him with his math homework, not...deal with whatever the heck this is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Comes the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> help me

Thick gold sunlight splashed down upon Mihashi’s room from the wide window, bouncing off of the wooden floor and throwing everything into a hazy fall semi-translucence. Even with the clothes and books and baseballs scattered around it looked a bit like a watercolor painting; something about the dust motes suspended in the golden air made the clutter seem like the jumble of objects in a still life, awash in white light. All of this was lost on Abe Takaya, though he did spare a glance outside the window to the perfect fall day outside, a day that had him itching to put on his glove and have Mihashi pitch to him, lack of catching gear and Mihashi’s weird form be damned. Mihashi seemed to be having similar ideas, glancing from him to the window and back again, his shoulders shifting with the seemingly random little movements of his core. Abe sighed a little absently out of frustration at his desire to play, and not any sort of annoyance with the blonde smiling shyly up at him. Abe’s breath was a little loud in the quiet of the room, and Mihashi jumped, though when Abe looked over Mihashi’s face smoothed out into the tiny smile he had been wearing ever since his catcher came over.

“U-um, we could, I could pitch to you, if--”

“Absolutely not.” Abe’s voice cut through Mihashi’s, gruffly but normal enough in volume. Mihashi’s face fell, and before he could get any weird ideas in that head of his Abe continued, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible, “No pitching, at least not until Momoe-san can look at you. We need a real pitching coach to make sure that we don’t do anything wrong and make your control worse than it already is--” he cut himself off there, wincing internally at the bad phrasing--Mihashi was better than he once was, but wording it like that surely wasn’t going to do wonders for the pitcher’s self-esteem. But Mihashi just nodded, looking...well, determined really. Maybe the fact that he hadn’t raised his voice had helped? Whatever the case, Mihashi wasn’t withdrawing into himself, at least yet--actually, he was leaning a little forward towards Abe, braced on his arms, fingers curling softly into the sheets of the futon he had pulled out for him and Abe to study on. Abe felt something weird, a little catch in his chest that was happening more and more often as he looked at the pitcher, whose eyes and hair were taking on the appearance of burnished gold in the mellow light even more than they usually did. Mihashi blinked and smiled, and the catch became a skip, and Abe hoped to god the weird lighting was obscuring the burning he felt on his cheeks.

“O...kay.” Mihashi said, and Abe waited a long beat for him to say something else, but he didn’t, just looked at Abe with those fathomless amber eyes.

 “It’s like what I said before...I don’t want us to get messed up,” Abe felt the need to explain. He had a sudden flashback, of him standing outside in the shade with the breeze gently ruffling his hair and the hum of the air conditioning unit in the background, and a halting voice murmuring, “But Abe-kun is the one...who cares about me the most…”

“Okay.” Mihashi said again, blinking up at him, snapping Abe out of it. Abe rubbed the back of his neck, tearing his gaze away from the other boy. So Mihashi got it. Probably. Maybe even better than Abe did? He spared another glance at the blonde, who was just looking back at him intensely, a little pink on his cheeks, probably from the sun. _Should I close the blinds? Is he going to get dehydrated? Autumn can be really dry_ \-- Abe worried as he once again made himself look away from the other boy, turning to rummage around in his bag for the textbooks he had brought. When he looked back Mihashi was gazing out of the window at a bird circling above, his posture loose and relaxed, head cocked a little. Abe cleared his throat and the pitcher jumped, shuffling a little closer when Abe opened his math textbook.

“...you should get your own.” Abe said when Mihashi made no move towards his own workbook, the blonde sitting close enough that Abe could feel his hair brushing softly across his cheek and could smell the detergent Mihashi-san used on her son’s clothes. Mihashi nodded quickly, nearly bonking heads with Abe as he jumped up and shuffled over to his desk, returning with his textbook and workbook. Abe noticed with a little bit of pride that the desk lacked the dust it did when the team first came over, and that Mihashi had probably been working hard there so that he could play baseball with him. Well, with the whole team, anyways.

Mihashi sat back down next to his catcher, and it wasn’t until Mihashi started fidgeting in the middle of his explanation of the first problem that Abe looked up. Mihashi had a little box clutched in the hand that wasn’t holding his pencil, and he was looking from it to him in a manner that Abe could only describe as baffling.

“Do you want...pockey?” Mihashi said hopefully, putting down his pencil and holding the box close to his chest with two hands. He blinked expectantly up at the catcher, getting even redder than he had before…? The air temperature wasn’t too hot, Abe mused as he looked down at the other boy and shook his head. “No thanks, I don’t like sweets.” He said, returning his gaze to his book, but when he sensed that Mihashi still wasn’t paying attention he looked back up to find the pitcher looking...really disappointed, actually. ...Did Abe eating something really mean that much to Mihashi? Mihashi looked down at the futon in what would be an almost comically sad fashion if Abe weren’t so worried about his fragile mood after the Senda game. “Um...I’ll try one, I guess.” Abe said, and Mihashi just _bloomed_ , beaming up at Abe and then down at the box as he fiddled with the container and the wrapping. Abe waited patiently, thinking out the next few steps in the math problem as Mihashi struggled with the wrapper and finally managed to get a thin chocolate-covered cookie stick out of the container. He held it out to Abe with a smile, and Abe took it, absently sticking it into his mouth as he returned his attention to his math book. It wasn’t terrible, he guessed, but it was a little sweet, and...why was Mihashi leaning so close again? Abe turned his head, nearly poking Mihashi with the stick that still hung out of his mouth, just in time for the blonde to stutter an apology and scramble back. Abe’s eyebrows furrowed, and he bit off the pockey, holding the rest loosely in his hand and chewing and swallowing so that he could speak. “What is it?” He asked, hoping there weren’t any crumbs around his mouth, though the way Mihashi was staring at it meant that there had to be something interesting there. Abe surreptitiously wiped his mouth when Mihashi squeaked and started looking all around, stuttering out...something before reaching for a glass of water and gulping it down.

“O..kay.” Abe said, looking in concern at his pitcher, who has somehow gone even more red. At least he was drinking water without Abe having to nag, he reflected before popping the rest of the cookie in his mouth and chewing. The next time he looked up from his book he caught Mihashi looking...disappointed? Question marks practically shot out of Abe’s head as he wondered just _how_ he had gotten eating a cookie wrong, though when Mihashi met his gaze he startled and put on an obviously fake smile, looking down at the workbook with the sort of glazed-out expression Abe was all-too familiar with.

Abe sighed a little, his patience wearing thin. “I’m going to get a glass of water,” he said, standing up as if to head into the kitchen. Maybe Mihashi would calm himself down in the time it took Abe to get back. He stopped though, when he felt a gentle hand grasp at his pant leg, and looked down to see Mihashi holding out his own glass of water in the other, blinking hopefully up at him.

“You--you can have some of mine!” Mihashi chirped, looking absurdly hopeful. Abe stared down at it, feeling a vein start to throb in his temple.

“Of course not!” He growled, earning himself the very quick removal of Mihashi’s hand from his leg and the pitcher’s scramble back, nearly spilling the glass of water on the futon. Abe opened his mouth to lecture the other boy on germs and sharing them and the very real danger of getting not only one but both of them sick, before noticing the dejected slope of Mihashi’s shoulders and his shaking and the gentle curve of his back as he hunched over the water. The lecture died his his throat, replaced by worry--he had raised his voice on accident. He sighed and plopped back down on the futon, holding his hand out for the glass. “Fine, I’ll take some.” He said, taking pains to keep his voice soft and level, and staunchly trying to ignore the germs that he was probably going to get from this transaction. Mihashi looked up at him, searching his face as if he was afraid this was a trick, and then slowly held out the glass in his shaking hand. Abe, feeling a bit like a bully, murmured a quick thank you before taking the glass and putting it to his lips. The water was cool and tasted faintly of lemon, and as he lowered the glass that was blocking his field of view he saw Mihashi turn an even brighter shade of crimson, looking again absurdly and tentatively happy. What on earth was going on with his pitcher?

“...thanks.” Abe said, holding out the glass for Mihashi to take again, who mumbled something towards the ground like, “In….ect...iss.”*

“I can’t hear you.” Abe said flatly.

“N-nothing!” Mihashi said, coloring more until the very tips of his ears were bright red, putting the glass down on the floor beside the cushion. Abe’s puzzlement grew even worse, and he looked in concern at Mihashi’s neck, red right down to the hem of his shirt. “Are you sick?” he asked seriously, really hoping he wasn’t, even more so because of the little concession he had made on the water.

“N-no!”  
“Don’t lie to me!” Abe barked, moving forward on the sheet until his knees nearly brushed Mihashi’s.

“I’m not...sick!” Mihashi got out, surprising Abe with his loudness and insistence, clenching his hands near his hips and chirping with his little diamond-shaped mouth. “I’m not…”

“Let me check your temperature anyways.” Abe growled lowly after a second, reaching out with the back of his hand towards the pitcher’s forehead. Oh, he hoped that Mihashi didn’t have a fever--that was just another thing they would have to deal with, and it would be the worst possible time considering Mihashi’s lack of control right now...though, Abe reflected, he would have to be careful not to tell Mihashi that, just so that the other boy wouldn’t misconstrue it in some horrible way and end up thinking that he was some kind of huge burden on him--

Abe’s stream of consciousness was interrupted by Mihashi’s face RIGHT THERE in front of his face, so close that he could feel the little puffs of breath coming from the pitcher’s mouth. He froze as Mihashi kinda...bonked foreheads with him. Well, he didn’t have a fever, Abe thought dimly, the warmth from the blonde seeming to seep through his forehead into his brain. Abe’s hand momentarily clutched at something that turned out to be Mihashi’s knee, and through his warm haze he felt Mihashi sigh, the air hitting his own lips and making him dizzy.

As soon as he was steady enough to do so he reeled back, stuttering out “Wh-what--” as if he were Mihashi or something. Mihashi squeaked a little, then looked up at his catcher, hands clutching the sheet near Abe’s leg. His eyes widened a bit, and his mouth dropped into a little “o,” a curve on his lips so kissable that Abe had to stifle a little groan. Mihashi looked--well, if he were looking at anyone, anything else Abe would only be able to call that expression on his face awe. His pitcher was pink and painted with that golden light, haloed around the head with that bright-sun-struck hair, the gold in his eyes replaced with back as his pupils were blown wide.

“Y-you were...going to take my temperature.” The other boy murmured, still not taking his eyes off of Abe’s. Oh. Ohhh. Abe colored, swallowing thickly over something in his throat. He was, sure, but with the back of his hand, not his forehead, like Mihashi’s ~~boyfriend~~ mother or something. Abe licked his lips to say something, anything--sorry for misinterpreting? Scolding for...for what exactly, Abe couldn’t think, and every thought chased out of his head as Mihashi made a soft noise in the back of his throat, watching Abe’s tongue sweep across his bottom lip. Abe’s heart pounded in his ears, and he tried to swallow again, and the gravity of a planet hung between him and his pitcher, drawing him inexorably closer and closer as if his body were being dragged by some invisible force, until he could count each eyelash casting its shadow on Mihashi’s cheek, because the pitcher was leaning in too, until Mihashi tilted his head and his lips landed softly, so so softly, on Abe’s burning cheek. Abe’s eyes shut as if by instinct and he took a shuddering breath, his other hand finding purchase on Mihashi’s pant leg by the knee. He squeezed gently, feeling Mihashi’s strong, thin body under his hand, not sure if the gesture was to steady him or comfort Mihashi or both. Mihashi made a little noise that Abe could feel vibrate against his cheek, and again when Mihashi pulled back a little, so close that even with his eyes shut Abe could tell that their noses had to be almost brushing.

“Takaya.” The other boy murmured, in a tone so tenderly reverent that Abe felt tears start to prick the corners of his eyes. “Takaya.”

Abe couldn’t speak, not now when the velvet silence of the room hung around them, not when Mihashi’s breath tickled his lips, smelling faintly of lemon water. His breath caught in his throat, and as Mihashi’s lips brushed his cheek again, drifting a little until they just grazed the corner of Abe’s mouth, Abe’s brain desperately tried to figure out what to make of the situation, thoughts fracturing like a prism when Mihashi’s lips softly dragged against his skin. Mihashi had--Mihashi had planned this, Abe realized, flashing back to the blonde’s tiny but all-too-satisfied smile when Abe had agreed to come over and help him with his homework, to his hushed giggling conference with Tajima in the corner of the dugout, to the especially soft shirt Abe felt under his unconsciously drifting hand, to the box of pockey set out on the boy’s dresser, and to the obviously well-taken-care-of lips that were drifting in what seemed geologic time towards his own. Mihashi had planned to kiss him, lured him over to his house when his parents weren’t home with--

Abe’s thoughts went completely blank when Mihashi’s lips pressed ever so gently against his own, when he could feel their softness, their texture, when Mihashi’s little gasp was lost between them as Abe tilted his head and leaned forward and pressed his mouth more firmly on his pitcher’s, _his_ pitcher’s, lips slanting together so perfectly like that was the only place on earth they were meant to be. Mihashi’s little hands found purchase on Abe’s shoulders, and he leaned forward so that his whole slight weight was pressed against his catcher, trusting Abe to support him entirely, and Abe did, hands coming to rest on either side of Ren’s waist as he held him like something infinitely precious, fingers catching in his pitcher’s belt loop and curling loosely there. His lips moved against Ren’s, soft and perfect and unfamiliar and probably unskilled but oh-so good. He only caught himself murmuring Ren’s name when his pitcher said Takaya’s back, pressing against him even more firmly, so that Abe had to take a hand off of Ren’s waist to brace himself against the ground. Ren squirmed a little in his arms, though not so much as to be disruptive, crowding in to try to get even closer to Abe, chasing the warmth that flowed through every point of contact with his catcher. Stars burst behind Abe’s eyelids, and when after what seemed like an interminable time they pulled apart, just a little, Abe’s vision swam a bit. He blinked through the tears to see Ren looking down at his own hands curled into loose fists on his knees, hair hanging soft and golden over his forehead.

“I’ll..” And Abe had to strain a little to hear, despite how close they both were, “I’ll be with you all the way too. No matter what happens.” A short breath, and then he looked up, eyes golden and soft and lit up so bright it was blinding, “Takaya.”

And because he had to, or else he was going to burst into tears right there, Abe leaned forward and pressed his forehead into the space between Ren’s neck and shoulder, hands coming up to grasp Ren’s upper arms. Ren just _melted_ into Abe’s arms, cheek coming to press against his catcher’s hair, and when Abe inhaled he smelled lemon and clean shampoo. And as they stayed twined in each other the golden light splashed down on the both of them and on the math textbook, still open and forgotten lying half-on half-off the futon.

It’s just as well that Ren’s homework didn’t get finished then, because, well, then Abe had to stay later to help him, didn’t he? It didn’t hurt that Mihashi-san seemed to think that Abe was a very sweet boy, to come around helping Ren with his homework so often, even if her smile after she turned away from them showed that perhaps she was aware of more than the boys knew. And it’s not like they lacked for opportunities for studying, although after the first time Izumi caught them pressed against the back of the equipment shed Abe insisted that he and Ren stick to places a little more private for study sessions. A little good-natured ribbing from the team aside, Abe didn’t regret it for an instant, and the next time he holds Ren’s hand on the mound he swears to himself that this time, this time he’s made a promise he can keep: he’ll be with Ren all the way no matter what happens.

 **  
**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*  “Indirect kiss”


End file.
